


Rebirth and Redemption

by CandidCanine



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: 2D Character Study, If you're expecting plotless smut you WILL be sorely disappointed, M/M, Phase Five (Gorillaz), a lame attempt to see into 2D's state of mind on Murdoc's absence in Phase Five, annoyingly heavy-handed references to canon, flashbacks to earlier phases, mental health issues and illnesses, past implied abuse, really sad sex scenes, somewhat canon compliant, the now now, which is just a fancy term for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 11:42:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17621741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandidCanine/pseuds/CandidCanine
Summary: Where have you gone?Brief glimpses of the insights and thoughts of one Stuart Pot, in the wake of the absence of the man who had defined nearly every aspect of his life for over twenty years.





	Rebirth and Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2D copes in the only way he knows how.

 

* * *

_July 2017: Post-Arrest_

2D never thought he'd get to write an album by himself.

 Correction: 2D never thought he would get to write an album, by himself, and that wouldn't require him to record it on an iPad while locked up against his will for hours on end and leaving most of its songs sounding unfinished and hastily put-together. Because as much as The Fall meant dearly to him, it wasn't an album that many would’ve consider as the band's most riveting work.

 It's not as if the thought of writing another one hadn't occurred to 2D—he is a musician after all, a frontman, even, and his profession did entail a flair for creativity if one wants to succeed in the industry— nor did he not have the inclination to do so. He was just content with keeping his head down and doing what he did best: sing his heart out and put on a good performance.

2D leaned back on his chair, staring at the indecipherable mess of ideas that scattered the pages of his open journal. After a brief pause, he tore off a page, balled it up, and dropped it in a sea of discarded paper littering his floor. His desk lamp flickered, as if warning him that the hot glow of its bulb was dangerously close to getting burnt out. 2D rubbed his eyes tiredly.

He's never felt like he was stifled, at least creatively…

2D shot a cursory glance at his alarm clock. _3:52 am._

…Or so he thought.

 _Murdoc._ 2D sighed and picked up his pen again, contemplating everything that happened the past two weeks.

The Gorillaz household had been in a state of unrest for days after an irate Murdoc was hauled off by stony-faced policemen, with no word of when he would get back or what he was being arrested for. One moment, the band was having a normal Friday off playing video games in the house, the next, uniformed police had knocked on their door and escorted Murdoc away in handcuffs.

 They've passed a whole weekend with no news until they were informed that their bassist would most likely be imprisoned for months for an as-of-yet unnamed crime that he had committed. They hadn’t even known till then that Murdoc had been forcibly deported from America and was now staying a maximum-security prison back home.

Once again, Gorillaz faced with the problem of missing band members.

Three very different reactions to this news: Noodle, remarkably unperturbed by it; Russel seemingly annoyed by the whole ordeal than worried; and 2D, fumbling for an appropriate emotion he should be feeling at that moment. He had settled for uncertainty.

It had only been a few days since the band had begun to feel a little normality in their lives. It didn't help that Murdoc had left right after the band had their first serious discussions about releasing their next album, just one year after releasing the album that broke their seven-year hiatus.

“Hey, 2D!”

2D jolted out of his skin and whipped his head to his now-open bedroom door, a sheepish Noodle peering through the crack.

“Sorry for scaring you. Noticed you were awake.”

“Yeah, I’m awake.” He smiled. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s 4 in the morning and you haven’t gone to bed yet, that’s the matter. Saw your lights on when I got up to get a drink.” Noodle yawned sleepily. “We have band practice tomorrow morning, in case you forgot. You hadn’t even eaten dinner.”

“Oh. I’ll just brew up some peppermint tea later.”

“That’s what you said the other day. 2D, you can’t just keep skipping meals. We need you in top shape,” Noodle scolded. She entered the room and softly closed the door, holding out a plate in her hand. Two pieces of sweet-smelling toast slathered in butter and jam beckoned to him. “If you’re not going to sleep, eat something at least. Here. Got you a snack.”

“I don’t need—” 2D’s stomach growled. Noodle raised an eyebrow and shoved the plate under his nose. His mouth watered at the aroma. “Maybe just one.”

2D took the offered plate and returned his attention to his journal. He took a piece of toast, picking it apart silently. Noodle hesitated. Instead of leaving, she went to sit on his bed, giving him an unreadable look as he bit into his food. 2D hardly noticed.

His thoughts wandered again, to the day after Murdoc’s arrest, when Gorillaz had been in complete disarray over the lack of direction that Murdoc’s absence caused. The band had thought that they had to cancel their newest project. It had gotten so bad that Noodle had called an emergency meeting to decide the fate of their still-unnamed, unconceived album.

_"What now?" she asked. Russel shrugged._

_"Scrap it?" he said. Noodle and Russel turned to 2D for a third opinion._

_"No," 2D said, surprising himself. "Don't."_

_Then what do we do? Postpone it? We don't know when Murdoc would—"_

_"We do what we always do," 2D interrupted before he lost the small bit of courage he still had. "We make the best goddamn album we possibly can. With or without him."_

Russel and Noodle only nodded, unofficially making 2D the new band leader. But there was just one problem:

2D had no idea where to start. At all.

Which is what led to him, right now, sequestered in his room for the better part of a night, trying to come up with a concept for their newest project.

 And failing to distract himself from the deafening absence of a certain man.

2D grimaced and reeled his mind away from the offending thoughts.

Noodle’s voice snapped him back to the present. “What’re you working on that’s making you stay up at ungodly hours in the morning?” she suddenly questioned after a full five minutes of 2D ignoring her.

“Huh? Our new album,” 2D dazedly replied around a mouthful of toast. It was delightfully creamy with a berry aftertaste. The excessive butter muffled his voice. “I’ve got a few ideas rattling around in my head, thought I should write them down ‘fore I forget.”

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“Nope,” he replied curtly. Noodle laughed.

“Should’ve expected that. Mind if I take a look at your ideas?” she asked, peeling herself off the bed and peering over his shoulder. She squinted down at the messy scrawl decorating his open journal. “ _'Kansas’_? What’s it abou—”

2D slammed the notebook shut so abruptly that Noodle stiffened up in surprise. He cringed at her hurt expression.

“It—it’s not finished, ‘m sorry Noods,” he blubbered. Noodle casted him a worried look. “I’m just not comfortable enough letting anyone read it yet. Or any of the new songs, for that matter.”

“No, no, I understand.” Noodle ran a hand through her hair. To his relief, she changed the subject. “Murdoc’s really done a number this time, huh? Trust him to disappear straight after starting a new project. Great timing.”

“Mm-hmm.” 2D agreed noncommittally.

“Sorry you had to pick up after him.”

 “It’s a’ight. I volunteered for the job anyway. Should’ve known how much work it was. But someone’s got to do it.” He stole a glance at his notebook. “It’s been hard, but I think I can manage.”

“It’s not your fault that he got himself arrested. He only has himself to blame,” Noodle stated, hugging 2D from behind and petting his head like he was a particularly distressed kitten. 2D wondered why Noodle felt the need to console him. She had been doing it more and more often lately. “Don’t think that you have to do everything alone, 2D. You don’t need to strain yourself like this. You’ll have better ideas to write with a clear head. Get some sleep, shelve your work until you want to do it.”

“My head is crystal clear,” 2D stressed. He set down his half-eaten piece of toast and made eye contact with Noodle. “I just have a lot to think about. New responsibilities and whatnot. Feels like I can’t sleep ‘til I’m satisfied. You understand right?”

Noodle stopped petting his hair. “I understand. But take care of yourself, ‘kay? Talk to me whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed. I’ll help out any way I can. I’m sure Russel feels the same way.” She yawned again, clapping a hand over her mouth. She made her way to the bedroom door. “I’m absolutely knackered, I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow, 2D. Don’t forget to put the plate in the sink before you sleep.”

The door clicked shut behind her, once again enveloping 2D in silence.

2D sighed.   _Talk to her?_

How could he talk to Noodle when even _he_ didn’t know what was going on with himself anymore? 2D glanced at the closed door and cautiously opened his journal again, flipping through the pages until he found a single word.

_SELFISH_

Trying to pin down anything from 2D's jumble of thoughts was like trying to catch a hurricane in a bottle. It was a confusing whirlwind of conflicting emotions that completely rendered 2D dumb. So he tried to drown his feelings in the songwriting process. To weave them into something he could make sense of.

He tried to paint a mental picture of his newfound role in the band. Of the absence of the individual that had once filled that role. Of the possibility that he wouldn't ever be coming back.

Mostly, 2D felt free. Freer these past two weeks than he’s ever felt in a long, long time.

But he also felt directionless.

Isolated.

Uninspired.

Like a twin without their more accomplished, successful counterpart.

He was feeling oddly bereft of something; something he shouldn’t have missed but did anyway.

So many feelings he couldn't name... and wouldn't. Not now, not when he had an album to work on.

2D shook off the intrusive thoughts and returned to his journal.

* * *

_August 2017: A New Album_

Weeks passed with no sign of Murdoc.

It took time for 2D to adapt to his new identity as Gorillaz' de facto head. He still wore the role like an ill-fitting suit; slinking around the studios, more awkward than he's ever been in the forty years of his life, but at least he lost the urge to question himself whenever he had to make decisions. At least he didn't skip-run to the front door whenever the doorbell rang anymore. At least he didn't sleep with his phone next to his ear anymore, double-checking his missed calls and messages in the morning to see if a particular Satan-worshipping, foulmouthed bassist had somehow found a way to contact him.

No calls or messages come.

But it was alright, it was fine. He— _they_ hadn't needed Murdoc after all. Gorillaz had done well without him. Better, even. 2D hasn't seen any explosive arguments or meltdowns since Murdoc left, which was a big first for the band. Murdoc had always been the instigator of the band’s worst fights. Removing him from the equation did a lot for the band’s collective disposition and outlook. It also became quite serene around the house with the absence of the usual shouting matches that occurred between a certain blue-haired singer and green-skinned bassist. With no irksome Murdoc to insult 2D’s intelligence or manhandle him into doing routine chores every chance he could get, 2D accomplished quite a good deal more music-wise.

Russel and Noodle took to 2D’s new guidance better than expected. Maybe it would've been more appropriate to feel some guilt for taking up the role of band leader so readily, but 2D had never felt so self-assured by the new direction their band was taking. He'd only tasted confidence a few times when he had been willing to risk Murdoc's ire, and had come to regret it seconds after meeting face-to-sole with a Cuban heeled boot.

Not anymore. Now he was free to make any judgements on the final product without Murdoc’s “constructive criticisms”, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t delighted by this development. This album— or The Now Now, as they've come to call it— was going to be 2D's moment in the spotlight. It will be an embodiment of the full extent of his creativity, it will be _his_ album, his masterpiece.

 It was art. 2D had a right to feel some sort of personal pride for writing Gorillaz' latest work. The Now Now will be brimming with his essence, so quintessentially 2D in sound and spirit that it felt sometimes like he's daring himself to cut up a part of his naked soul for the world to see. So much so, that he had almost scrapped the chorus of the song that would later become _"H_ _umility"_  after he had (finally) let Noodle read over it after a practice session at a studio:

> _I'm the lonely twin, the left hand_
> 
> _Reset myself and get back on track_
> 
> _I don't want this isolation_
> 
> _See the state I'm in now?_  

Noodle’s finger had paused over the passage. When she finished reading the whole page, she frowned contemplatively, biting her lower lip as if she wanted to say something but decided against it. 2D shuffled on his feet nervously steeling himself for her verdict.

"Come with me, 2D," she said, gripping his wrist. 2D looked at her questioningly. She flicked a thumb at Russel, who was still jamming to an unheard beat in his headphones, drumming away at the corner. "Somewhere private."

She waved at Russel, gesturing towards the exit. After a returned nod from the man, she pulled 2D out of the recording booth and into the other side of the room. He waited for her to share her opinion.

"Are you okay?" Noodle asked instead.

2D blinked at the sudden and off-topic question. "Yeah. Why'd you ask?"

"Nothing. It's just that this is..." Noodle searched for the right words to say. "No. Nevermind. About your song.  What kind of vibe are you shooting for? I'm getting loads of different... emotions... from your lyrics. And you want to pair this with a funky, sort of jazz-pop tune?" 2D nodded. "Nice juxtaposition. It's great, it's going to sound great, but..."

"But?" 2D prompted.

"But..." Noodle faltered. She tapped her foot on the floor, occasionally looking at Russel through the glass window of the booth. "It feels very restless. Very personal. It makes you question if the writer's going through something in their life." Noodle looked at 2D. 

2D couldn't see what's wrong. "What're you getting at? It's a song. It's s'pposed to be emotional and personal, that's what good music often is. Don't overthink it, I just thought it made for a good concept."

"I just want to know if it has anything to do with the way you're acting now."

"What do you mean, the way I'm acting now?" asked 2D, baffled.

Noodle counted them off on her fingers. "You've been really fidgety and and restless lately. You space out all the time. You seem to swing from being happy one moment and gloomy the next. You barely sleep. Then you write something like this. It's hard not to notice, 2D. I just think that you have issues to sort out and you're just diverting it to your writing instead of confronting it head on."

"I'm not!" he denied vehemently. "I don't have issues— I haven't— what I write doesn't always have anything to do with my mental state, alright? We've done a lot of other songs that don't mean— "

"I’m not saying that— "

"—anything at all, I mean, you should ask Murdoc about his own songs— "

"That's not it, I—"

"—he's written enough to fill a psychiatrist's portfolio—"

"2D."

"—I'm just trying to pave my own way here—"

"2D." 

"— and honestly, quit projecting real life onto— "

“Stu!” Noodle repeated sharply. 2D closed his mouth and eyed Russel anxiously, who seemed to have noticed the two's argument and was now watching them closely. 2D silently thanked whoever invented soundproofing.

Noodle took a deep breath. "I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable," she began slowly, "I'm trying to look out for you. As a friend. I've known you for years and I know when something's bothering you." She glided her attention back to the journal and peruses the lyrics again. "It reads like a person who misses someone terribly, but has to move on."

"I know what I wrote." 2D was tired. "You don't need to explain it back to me."

"And these don't mean anything to you?" she asked, closing the notebook. 

"No." 

A pause.

"Did you write this with someone in mind?" 2D hated how gently she spoke to him.

"No."

"You don't want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

Noodle tried again. "You know you can tell me, right? Are you _sure_ everything's okay?"

"Yes, I know. I appreciate you being there for me, Noods. But I'm fine. Really," he said, attempting to sound reassuring.

Noodle sighed like a mother who had given up chiding her son. "Okay."

Noodle had refrained from making any further observations on his emotional state. They move on to discussing the main melody of the new song and the subject was dropped completely.

2D's heart had been racing. Had he really been that obvious? How had she gleamed so much from just a single song? It was as if she knew something and was just asking for confirmation. As if she read his mind and found out everything about what happened between him and— 

 _No. No,_ he had reminded himself _. That's complete bollocks._ There's no way she knows about Murdoc. Maybe she thought he was thinking of someone else. She was just worried the stress had got to him, that was all. There's no way she figured everything out, and what he was feeling, when he didn’t even know it himself. It was impossible; him and Murdoc would never have told a single soul, he had tried to bury all his feelings so far beneath the surface that he had almost forgotten...

Almost.

Noodle's prying dug up past memories that 2D didn't want to remember. It reminded him of regrets, lost opportunities, and missed second chances, but most of all, it reminded him of a disappointment so deep that it still pierces his soul. So maybe Noodle was right. Maybe he was using music as a coping mechanism. But it was healing, it was cathartic, and 2D sure as hell wasn't going to stop. 

It helped him focus. It was much easier to focus on the present, the now, the now _now_ , and what the now now is, is a reality where 2D had to adjust to the sudden absence of an individual that casted a shadow over 2D for over half his life. Was he supposed to feel elated? Vindicated? Relieved? A strange mixture of all three?

Or something else altogether?

2D didn’t think he wanted to find out.

* * *

_September 2017: Upheaval in the Pecking Order_

Progress on the new album was slow, considering that they were still on tour. It was beyond difficult for 2D to juggle their concert rehearsals, band meetings and brainstorming sessions, but the band managed decent enough for 2D not to get too concerned. Life went on. Gorillaz performed their songs. They practiced their old setlist. They recorded parts of The Now Now in secret. They teased the new album by performing one of the finished songs, " _Idaho_ ," to an unsuspecting crowd of fans in their second Seattle concert.

Noodle had called the song "safe," eyeing 2D meaningfully when he said it was a good choice for the album's introduction.

2D didn't contest her opinion but ignored her anyway.

There were more pressing matters to attend to. Gorillaz was still missing one bassist since Murdoc's departure, and the Humanz tour and new album certainly weren't going to complete themselves. Fortunately for the band, there were no shortage of volunteers to take up the mantle of temporary bassist. By this time, news of Murdoc’s arrest had spread like wildfire to the wider public, and musicians of every background had contacted the band one way or another to not-so-subtly imply their willingness to fill in for Murdoc. By the time the Humanz tour was back in full swing, they had several candidates lined up for the job.

 _Un_ fortunately for the band, 2D had gripes with each and every single replacement that was brought in. They were too chipper, too easygoing, too lackluster, too meek, too compliant. 2D hated how overly eager they were to fit in, hated how he had to teach them the basics that everyone else in the band knew, hated how unfailingly mediocre most of them sounded— at least to him. 2D especially hated the way that they simply agreed to do virtually everything he told them. Where was the helpful input, the pushback? Why did they just stand there like scolded puppies when he criticized them? Did none of these morons understand the creative process? Worst of all, the other band members had disagreed with his sentiments, choosing to treat the strangers too kindly for his liking.

They irritated 2D in a way he couldn't understand, like their very presence in the band was an affront to everything Gorillaz stood for, like they were germs that could tarnish the band with subpar music if he didn’t scrub them away fast enough. He couldn’t get used to them. It just felt _wrong_.

He knew he was being overly critical, but he couldn't help it. So he treated the replacements like dirt, taunting their playstyle choices, sneering at them when they hopefully asked to mingle with the band, snidely pointing out every “flaw” that he observed. While Noodle and Russel went out to bars, taking the newest member with them, 2D had been holed up in his room, giving paltry excuses for why he didn’t want to hang out.

2D was ice cold.  His dissatisfaction reached peak levels when a particularly terrible one missed her cue a few times in practice. She began sobbing after he had finished insulting and shouting at her, and by nightfall, she had skipped out on the band with only a letter of resignation in her wake.

One by one, the temporary bassists grew tired of 2D's relentless bullying and left. After a cycle of around fifteen different replacements coming in, getting berated, and leaving in either tears or blind rage, Russel had put his foot down and confronted 2D.

"Look, D.” Russel said, taking 2D aside after their most recent bassist had stormed off. “We can't go on like this. You're scaring off too many people. Sooner or later there won't be anyone who'd wanna work with us anymore. We have to find someone willing to commit, and it’s getting hard to do that when you look like you want to eat them alive every single time they try to get close to us. Try to loosen up, ‘kay? Give ‘em a chance to prove themselves and maybe you won’t be so disappointed all the damn time.”

“It’s not my fault! These people you’re bringing in are nitwits. ‘Reckon half of ‘em can’t even pluck those bass strings properly— we can’t let temps bring Gorillaz down. I’m just letting them have a taste of our gold standard. Just tough love, that’s all. When I find someone who doesn’t sound like utter shite, I’ll let up.”

“Yeah, well, your ‘tough love’s’ gone and given us a terrible reputation. Remember Jason? The blondie who stayed with us for less than a week? He opened his mouth and yapped to all his friends. Turns out he was a bit of a social media darling and his sob story went viral. Worse, everyone else we’d brought in started talking too, and now hardly any bassist in the western hemisphere wants to touch our band with a ten foot pole. We’re running out of options.”

“Easy.” 2D waved him off. “Hire someone who hasn’t heard of Jake. Problem solved.”

“Jason.”

“Right. The last thing we need to do is to bring in another bassist who’s just here to fuck around with us and some groupies. We’re better off with someone who doesn’t know this Jacob fella.”

“You don’t think we thought of that? It’s hard. Almost as hard as getting that Damon Albarn guy to stop stalking us all the time. Jason’s Facebook post is everywhere. Now everyone who’s willing to play for us just wants to find out if you’re as much of a jackass as people say you are.” 2D winced.

“Then just offer more money to the next one. No one’ll care when they’re getting paid to play.”

“They will care if this keeps up.”

“… Offer a gift bag?”

“God, D. That isn’t my point. That’s not the problem here!”

 “You saying I’m the problem, then?”

“Yes. No!” Russel scrubbed his face. “All I’m saying is… even if we find someone else, who’s to say you’re not gonna drive ‘em off? We need you to cooperate, man. I ain’t saying this is all your fault, but you need to get your shit together if you want this band to last.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose, Russ. Honest. I still think this whole business is bull. Why’re we getting twats we can’t trust for something like this?  Don’t you know anyone who can play? Someone we won’t let us down?”

“I’m not the one with connections.” Russel looked at him pointedly. “You know who does.”

2D swallowed.

Russ continued. “I’ve been thinking. You’re right, we need someone we can trust. There’s only one person in our band who’s got every halfway-decent bassist in his contacts. He’s got to know the right guy for the job. Maybe we could send a letter, ring him up if he’s allowed to take calls…”

 2D looked away, twiddling his thumbs under the other man’s gaze.

“One of us could ask him to send names…”

“…”

“Maybe even get him to make an arrangement of some sort, contact new guest artists for the album.” Russel placed a heavy hand on 2D’s shoulder. “I say Murdoc can help.”

“I’m not going to talk to ‘im, if that’s what you’re getting at.” 2D mumbled. “I don't want to.”

“I don’t want to either, D. But it's an idea. I think you're our best shot at convincing him.”

“I—I just don’t think it’s worth it,” he stuttered unconvincingly. “Can't be arsed to call him up. More trouble than it's worth. And what if he yells at me?”

Russel dropped his hand. "Why don't you think it's worth it? You know him. He'll get pissed for sure but he'll cooperate if it's for the good of the band. If it means we get someone you're happy with, I think it's worth a shot."

"How're we supposed to talk to him when he's in jail?"

Russel rolled his eyes. "There's always a way when it comes to us. We're always getting into all kinds of crazy shit, remember? Think of something. I mean, you could write something down and send it to him in a cake for all I care."

 "But..." 2D grappled for an excuse. "Couldn't you do it?"

"Who's the one who's got problems with the bassists here?" Russel asked with a raised eyebrow. Silence. "That's right, you. And we've been busting our asses trying to find a way to replace each and every one of 'em when they go running off crying to their momma. Because, like I said,  _you've_ been driving them off.  Try this, at least. What do you think?"

"I..." 2D squeaked. "I think what we should do is..."

Russel waited.

 "...not to rely on someone who isn't here with us and shouldn't be able to chip in on any major decisions we have to make," 2D finished. "We're not out of options here. I'm not abouta go crawling off to Murdoc just yet."

Russel huffed in exasperation. “Have it your way then. But hear this: I’m sick an’ tired of having to screen these new people for the band only for them to leave right away. If you’re so sure of what Gorillaz needs, then _you_ find our new bassist for us. _You_ put up the ad,  _you_ hold auditions, and  _you_ pick the right person. You’re the band leader anyway, right?”

* * *

 _October 2017: A New Visitor_

Right.

But October was coming to an end with neither hide nor hair of their potential new bassist in sight. No, it wasn’t because no one was up for the job. Rather, it was because 2D was taking his sweet time delaying the moment he had to handpick Murdoc’s replacement himself. It was the absolute last thing that 2D wanted to do. The thought of meeting hundreds of strangers and having to pick someone who would slot into a very prominent part of Gorillaz made him sick to his stomach ~~almost much as the thought of them permanently replacing Murdoc’s spot in his life.~~ He’d never been good at choosing the right person ~~for himself.~~

On one lazy week off, Noodle and Russel refused to let 2D bum around, having enough of his excuses and demanding he do something about their lack of a bassist before their Humanz tour picked up again. They left 2D on house guard duty, warning him of dire consequences should he not be able to procure someone before the weekend. When he suggested he take some time off first to go clear his head, Noodle had given 2D a look so disapproving that he had changed his mind, retreated into his bedroom, and closed the door.

2D set to work.

He was putting the finishing touches on an ad he was going to put up online when he heard the telltale chime of Spirit House’s doorbell. He paused, fingers over his laptop’s keyboard, ears perking up as the doorbell rings  again more urgently. He stretched his arms and glanced at his open window. Daylight.

 _Back already?_ he thought absently, shuffling to the front door. His bandmates weren’t supposed to be back until midnight, and they shouldn’t be expecting anyone else at the house on their days off. They were almost never home on their off days. He’s half expecting to see a Noodle that had forgotten her purse.

2D opened the door and got the shock of his life.

There was a man standing on the front steps. 2D’s eyes fixated on the superficial at first. Sickly green-tinged skin, greasy black hair, and a lean but lightly muscled frame. Black jacket, a band t-shirt, and ripped jeans. Boots made of expensive Italian leather. An angular face with a smirk that practically begged someone to sock it off him. An air of arrogance permeating under a deceptively charismatic surface. The man’s mouth quirked upward and started to speak, but 2D’s mind hardly registered the words. His thoughts had already wandered to the only green, irritating, and arrogant person he knew.

It was so jarring that 2D had to take a step back, blinking several times before realizing that no, he wasn’t hallucinating; the person in front of him was definitely _not_ Murdoc. He just had an unfortunate resemblance to him. 2D forced himself to look past the similarities. For one, the man was a lot taller than Murdoc, just an inch shy of standing eye-to-eye with 2D. For another, he didn’t seem to have regarded 2D with any noticeable recognition. He also didn't have Murdoc's trademark squashed-in broken nose. Or Murdoc's mesmerizing heterochromatic eyes. Or Murdoc's tiny snaggletooth that peeked out of his lips when he smiled the right way. Or— 2D cut off the unwanted train of thought.

The stranger was also donning a ridiculous pair of pointy shades that Murdoc would never, ever, in a hundred years be caught dead wearing.

He seemed painfully American, with a nasally voice reminiscent of someone attempting a poor imitation of a stereotypical Italian New York accent. Hefted onto his left shoulder was an oversized duffel bag that was full to bursting, and, clutched tightly in his left, the handle of a guitar case. 2D let out a tiny breath of relief when the man looked more confused than irritated with 2D’s shock, his reaction further solidifying the fact that he was just a stranger.

The man waved his free hand in front of 2D’s face. “’Ey, you okay there? Earth to pretty boy. Don’t zone out while I’m talking to you.”

 “…What?”

“I said, can I go in?” the man repeated. “My back’s killing me, I’ve got like two months’ worth of stuff in this damn bag and I’m dying to sit down somewhere that isn’t a park bench or a bus seat. I’ve been travelling for hours and I haven’t slept since yesterday.”

“…Er…”

The stranger stared at him for a moment before 2D regained the ability to speak.

“D’you— do you need sumthing?” he asked dumbly.

Not-Murdoc stared at 2D again, then shook his head in exasperation. He opted to ignore the pointless question and brushed past 2D with the ease of a man who didn’t care about pleasantries. The stranger started chatting at a hundred miles an hour, only pausing to admire—or more likely, gawk—at a gold-framed picture of a nearly naked Murdoc in tiger print thongs hanging by the stairwell. 2D followed close behind, utterly dumbstruck by the stranger’s brashness.

“Man, I hate public transport. Buses always late. Rude drivers. Even ruder people. Some o’ those people I sat next to smelled worse than a gas station’s restroom. And don’t even get me started on trains! Some kid peed on a guy’s shoe and his dad didn’t even care. Just moved to another car before the poor bastard noticed. I should’ve booked a plane—“  

2D decided to interrupt the man before he could get a headache. “M’sorry, but who in bloody hell are you? We’re not expecting anybody today. Never seen you before in my life.”

The man whirled to face 2D. “Wait. He didn’t tell you?”

“Who???”

“Of course he didn’t.” The stranger ran a hand through his hair. “Alright. From the top. I’m Ace. Ace Copular. You’re Stuart?”

“Yes, but call me 2D," he corrected. "Still can't figure out why the fuck you're here.”

“I’m your new bandmate.”

“Huh!?”

“Heard you were in need of one.” Ace smirked, exposing a set of unusually sharp teeth. 2D shivered as a wave of eerie familiarity washed over him. “I’m offering my services. So. Do I pass the background check?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because! You can’t just— we’re not accepting just anyone who comes along wanting in on our band, we’re not that desperate. I’ll have you know that we have a strict standard, that, er… we're flattered a fan like you wants to play for us. So, we, we’re putting up an ad, you see, you can come back—”

“Cancel it. ‘Sides. You gonna make me travel all the way here to turn me down? Have a little gratitude. I ain’t just any annoying fan who picked up an instrument and thinks they can play for your band, and I’m not here because I thought the scenery in Detroit was worth a visit.” Ace snorted and shrugged off his duffel bag, making a beeline for the living room. He threw his luggage on the floor, sagged into the sofa, and closed his eyes. “I’m here to save your sorry asses. Your pal Murdoc sent me.”

“Murdoc?!”

“Yeah. He’s the reason I even know about you guys. Murdoc’s a friend of mine. Met him in Vegas summer of ‘thirteen, crashed a few casinos for a couple o’ days. Liked him ever since I saw him swindle some chumps in blackjack. Sneaky motherfucker, he was.” Ace shook his head at the memory. ”Anyways. Lost a bet and ended up owing him a favor a while back. Damn near forgot about it till he cashed it in.”

"Right," 2D said slowly, "You know Murdoc. Still doesn't explain why you're here."

"I told you. He cashed in a favor."

“And he cashed it in by—?”

“Very explicitly stating that he needed a specific bassist for Gorillaz. Me. I’m that bassist.”

“How did he know about us needing one?” 2D asked, vexed by Murdoc's actions. He couldn't make heads or tails of the man. “We could’ve just as easily replaced him after he left.”

“You kidding me right?" Ace said, removing his shades and placing them on the coffee table. "I've seen videos of you guys on tour. You change bassists when one o’ them so much as sneezes in the wrong direction. Anyone with two working eyes would notice you weren’t happy with them."

"I take it Murdoc has internet access in prison somehow," 2D muttered to himself. Trust Murdoc to get his hands on WiFi in a maximum-security prison cell.

Ace continued. "News travels fast, ya know. Even in prisons. So Murdoc contacted me— don’t ask me how he got to text me in jail too, I don’t know either— and told me to hunt you down, fill in for him while he’s away. Says he doesn’t plan to stay in the slammer for long and made me promise to look after you guys. So that's that. Now I’m here.”

"He sent you here without telling us?" 2D's blood started to boil. "And he just expects us to take you in like you're some God-given gift to our band."

"Pretty much. Short notice, I know, but I'm here on your band leader's orders."

“He’s not band leader!” 2D bristled at Ace’s words. “Not anymore. He lost his privileges when he got himself arrested again. That old bastard doesn’t get to decide for us.”

"Woah, woah woah, calm your tits. I'm here to help." 

"What Murdoc's doing isn't helping. He's just finding his way to worm into a project he has no part of, " he spat, taking a seat as far away from Ace as possible. "Go back, tell him he's wasted his time. We don't need him."

“He doesn’t seem to think that.” Ace said leisurely. He leaned back on his seat, retrieving his guitar case from the side of the sofa. He pulled out his bass guitar and started inspecting it.

 "Well, he can take his opinion and shove it. Murdoc's not in the band right now and he's certainly _not_ in charge.”

A sigh. Ace gripped the neck of his bass more tightly. “So who’s in charge then?”

 “I’m in charge now, thank you very much.” 2D snapped. “And you know what? I’m not letting you in easy. _I_ say the band should get a vote—”

“But your band did vote. You’re outnumbered two to one.”

“The band _what?”_

 Well, your friends didn't _technically_ vote but they seemed like they wanted to take their chances." Ace pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Murdoc gave me one of your friend’s numbers. I think his name's Russel? Yeah, I called him this afternoon to tell him I was coming. Right before I got here. S'why I thought you knew 'bout me. Your bandmates should be on their way back.”

He side-eyed 2D and grinned. "Let's see what they have to say."

By the end of the day, Ace Copular had officially become their new bassist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this was supposed to be a small oneshot detailing 2D's perspective in phase five, but then I got started and... yeah... 
> 
> Enjoy the extra chapters I guess?
> 
> Hope you liked conflicted!2D in this first chapter! Better savor it for now because cockyandassured!2D will be making an appearance soon. Special thanks to [dreaming-powder](http://dreaming-powder.tumblr.com) for dragging me kicking and screaming into the 2doc shipping bin. You rock, but you also suck, because I've been in the fandom for barely two weeks and your awesome, amazing, fantastic art's made me think it'd be cool to write a fic like this. Who thought I was qualified??? *dies from the amount of research the Gorillaz fandom requires*
> 
> Leave a comment if you want to rage at me for making the characters OOC or other general reasons that make me a dumpster fire of a human being. ~~Maybe tell me to get off my lazy ass and make a 2doc tumblr sideblog/twitter/whatever~~ Set up shop in the Gorillaz fandom! See me at [2dorkandmrpickles!](http://2dorkandmrpickles.tumblr.com)


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